WHO: Rashida Mazibuko and Jesper Ward. WHEN: Saturday afternoon-ish, October 27th. WHERE: Rashida’s room. WHAT: Jesper shows Rashida how his power works, and finds out a secret. RATING: Low. STATUS: Complete.
The rugby game had relaxed Rashida enough to be able to get through the weekend without too much running, soccer, and so forth. The bruises had faded since Thursday, and new would come tomorrow, during practice.
Rugby. Again. It wasn’t soccer, but she quite liked it. If the boys could just get over themselves and start tackling the girls properly it would be even better. All in good time, she supposed.
She sat cross legged on the bed, her hands drumming a beat against her thighs. “So,” she said to Jesper, who had been hanging out peacefully in the chair by the window until she demanded his attention (really, having friends you could just hang with, without doing shit all the time was amazing) by way of a pillow to the head. “Show me.”
There were not many people that Jesper would willingly show his powers to, but then, there were not many people that Jesper actually liked in any way shape or form. Rashida was probably the person he was the closest to at IVI - for some reason they had just clicked and bonded, and he was glad for that.
Making a little grunting noise when the pillow collided with his head, he flicked a dark piece of hair out of his eyes and arched an eyebrow at her.
“What, my tits?” he asked with a little grin. “Because you’re going to be sadly disappointed.” He said that on a whim, with no meaning behind it - not realizing that there could actually be a meaning to that joke.
“Yes,” she said. “Your tits. Need a peek. I don’t have friends with less than a b-cup.” Which, of course, was hardly the truth, seeing as the majority of her friends were boys, but no one could say that Rashida didn’t run with a joke, however badly presented.
And no matter what it actually said about her, seriously or not. Not that he knew. Or would know. He was pretty cool, she had to admit, but she wasn’t about to give her secrets away to someone she’d only known for a few months. “Maybe you’re just too goth to take those gloves off,” she said, referring to the infamous list. “That would explain it.”
Jesper put on a mournful expression. “I guess we can’t be friends then. At least until I’m eighty and sporting man boobs.” Which, god forbid, would never, ever happen. If his father and grandfather were anything to go by, he was going to be okay. The vegetarian diet, despite being forced, would help.
He snorted in amusement at mention of the list. “Clearly. I am so very goth after all.” Which he really wasn’t even close to being. His gloves often were black - for practicality purposes, as black went with everything and didn’t show dirt - but the rest of his clothes usually were not. And he wasn’t into emo poetry and whiny music.
“Give me something you want me to touch,” he grinned, wiggling his fingers.
It’s okay,” Rashida said. “I can wait a few decades. Only patience brings you a good set of man boobs I’ve heard.” Which made it sound like she was an expert. Because fondler of man boobs was what she’d always wanted to be.
She looked around the room for something vaguely appropriate. He could read things, she thought. She hadn’t seen it before, but he didn’t seem like he loved using his power either, maybe because he learned too much? She really wasn’t sure. In the end she handed him something fairly neutral -- a blue pencil case with soccer balls on it. She’d had it since she was nine, and the zipper had long since stopped working.
“Go on then,” she said, handing it over. “Amaze me.”
Jesper took the pencil case in hand, setting it in his lap briefly while he peeled off one of his gloves. His hands were pale, but then, Jesper was pale in general, so it was no great surprise. Grasping the case in his bare hand, he felt that usual rush of sensation - feelings and sounds and scents, but most strongly, visual images.
There were a number of things associated with the pencil case - he could tell there was a lot of history there. One ‘flash’ of history sprung to the forefront, and made Jesper arch his brows reflexively.
“You spend your Spanish class discussing whether or not Seth is real?” he asked with a chuckle. “I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not that I chose German. Also, shame on you for falling asleep in Science class.”
Rashida wanted to tell that there was also certain doubts Seth wasn’t Asian, but the things he’d seen made her a bit wary. He shouldn’t know any of those things. Or if he did, how could he hear things? Images was one thing, and feelings. But conversation? That was just weird. As weird as things got around here anyway.
“Oh shut up. Someone told you that. Not that I know why anyone would find that interesting, but...”
The look on his face was that of a person who had had their power doubted, but knew they were right, and could prove it. It was annoying. Rashida grabbed something from the pile of clean clothes she’d dumped on the bed that very morning. No way he could get a reading from that, apart from the yellow walls of the laundry room.
“Try that one.”
She realised it just as he caught the shirt that if she was wrong -- if he could see further back than that -- she had given him more than enough to work with. Because that shirt? Oh yes. She’d worn that on a very special day indeed.
“Yes, because I talk to so many people,” Jesper grinned. He didn’t have a wide social network. Jesper could be abrasive, was purposefully so with many people, and so he didn’t have a lot of close friends. There was Rashida, and there were a handful of other people. And that was okay with him honestly.
He caught the shirt, and before he had a chance to think of anything, there was another flash. And the thing about washing clothes - washing anything- was that while dirt and grime could be washed away, the past never was.
Lips and hands touching, and two girls. One who was most definitely Rashida - and one he did not recognize at all.
“Shit,” he said, dropping the shirt, but it was a little too late. That was probably not something he was meant to see.
The phrase ‘deer in headlight’ was a stupid one, but that was what it felt like. Because she should know better. Should be more careful. It was dangerous if the wrong person found out these things, she knew that. The queers in this place didn’t act like it, they were comfortable. Safe. Maybe one day she would feel like that too. Maybe she wouldn’t.
Right now she didn’t, and she turned her dark eyes towards him even though she wanted to run, hoping that what was in them looked like anger, not fear.
“Tell anyone and I’ll kick you out a fucking window,” she said sharply. “I’m not kidding.”
She wasn’t. Not even a little.
Jesper felt a little deer in headlights himself. He often felt that way when he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. There was a reason that he wore his gloves all the time, and it wasn’t just to cut out the constant overload that came from naturally touching things. Which everyone else took for granted. It was also because some privacies were not meant to be invaded.
But then Rashida was speaking, and his own awkwardness was pushed away. “Fuck, Rashida, I’m not going to tell anyone,” he said, meeting her gaze. While he might have said things about people he didn’t like, Jesper could keep a secret, very very well.
“And I don’t care. I mean, I care about you, but that doesn’t change my opinion of you,” he stated plainly.
Nobody could accuse Rashida of being good at keeping close friends. She talked to anyone and everyone, but the last person she let past the ‘good friends’ barrier was Charlize and that hadn’t exactly ended well. And really, Jesper wasn’t there yet. It was way too early for him to know about this stuff. Yet... he did. And he seemed serious too. About not telling. It made her relax, ever so little, but the way she spoke still had quite a bit of heat behind it.
“I’m not ashamed,” she said. “It’s just not safe. Not where I’m from.”
It might be. She did live in the city. The neighbourhood she’d grown up in wasn’t the nicest, but far from the worst too. She might’ve been okay. Maybe. But her father came from a village where that wasn’t true and he’d told her... he’d made her promise not to tell anyone.
“But thank you.” She sat down again, doing her best not to freak out. She really didn’t want to know how much he’d seen. Not all of it, she hoped. That would’ve been -- fuck, so awkward.
She decided not to ask.
“I understand,” Jesper told her. “Even in the most progressive places, it’s not an easy thing. Which is stupid, because it’s a ridiculous thing to be bigoted about.” He had no problem with a person being gay, or straight, or any aspect of the sexuality rainbow.
He was more the type to judge someone on whether they were intelligent or not. Or annoying or not.
Tugging on his glove, he got his fingers comfortably situated before he continued. “If we’re sharing secrets, well, I’m bisexual.” He shrugged. It was an ‘in theory’ thing, rather than practice, before he’d only ever been involved with girls - and not many of them, before of his power. But he noticed guys, was attracted to them.
“Oh.” He said it with a shrug, as if it didn’t matter much. Maybe it didn’t. There were a lot of people around here that didn’t seem to think it mattered one way or another.
She still felt rather like setting fire to the poor, innocent (well...) shirt.
“Okay. That’s... well. Makes me feel less homicidal. If that helps.”
“That’s good, because I really was hoping to stay alive for another couple days, at least,” Jesper said, leaning back on his (now safely gloved) hands.
“But seriously, I’m not going to say a word to anyone,” he promised her. He was good for his word when he gave it, and his lips would be sealed. When Jesper like someone, befriended someone, he was fiercely loyal to him.
“So does this mean the ex-boyfriend wasn’t a ‘boy’ at all or do you swing both ways?” he asked her. Neither answer would bother him in the least but he did wonder if that conversation they’d had had been a case of the switching pronouns.
Rashida really wasn’t embarrassed by much and no topic was really off limits when she got going, but this? Yeah, it was a bit weird. How could he be so casual about it?
“You pretty much got a peek at my whole dating history there,” she said, hoping that, yeah, he didn’t see too much because fuck she’d have to throw him out a window anyway if that was the case. “Sorry hubs, only girls gets to visit my sacred temple.”
Jesper snorted in amusement. “I really hope you don’t call it your ‘Sacred Temple’ or I’d wonder how anyone got there at all,” he said with a grin.
He shrugged, as much as he was able to while leaning back on his hands as he was. Which wasn’t much movement, but got the point across. “Ah well. A sexless marriage - so pretty much like any other marriage then,” he joked.
“It’s a special term I use just for you, dear. To make you feel special.”
She leaned back against the wall, feeling sort of like things where heading back towards a more comfortable territory. Which, for some reason, involved pretending to be married to some Canadian bloke she’d only met three months ago. Life was weird. Really weird.
“You’re allowed to have someone on the side,” she said generously. “It’s how marriage works, I’ve heard.” Nevermind that her parents had been mostly happily married for over twenty years. “And if not, I’ll buy you something shiny. Bribing always helps.”
“‘Special’ is certainly the world for it,” Jesper replied sweetly. “Next you’ll be talking about wanting to ‘give your flower away’.” Which he was pretty sure he had heard on a rerun of Friends - his sister had always been watching that show.
He too had parents who had been happily married for decades. Three decades, in fact, since Jesper was the youngest of the family, even if he sometimes acted more like an oldest or middle child rather than a youngest. If you believed that birth order stuff.
“And who will you be having on the side?” he asked slyly, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
Rashida threw another pillow at him, hitting in squarely in the face. Ah yes. She did have her aim on her side. Always.
“Shut your pretty mouth,” she said, relieved that he at least couldn’t read her thoughts. That would’ve been awkward. She really wasn’t used to being so ridiculously, unrequitedly crushing on someone. With Charlize it had been easy. Here? No, here it was complicated, not only because of her being secretive, but also because people were so comfortable, making it hard to figure out who you liked like that and who was just unbearably cool and someone you wanted to be like. Though to be perfectly honest she had more or less figured that one out.
“I should start quizzing you on past boyfriends. And girlfriends I guess. See how I’m not doing that? It’s because I’m a gracious, utterly and completely considerate person. With no hidden motives. Ever.”
“It is pretty,” Jesper agreed, reaching up to tap a finger against his lower lip. Which wasn’t untrue, although Jesper didn’t really give much thought to his lips or his eyes or his razor sharp cheekbones.
“Well, there was Simon and Holly and Connor and Anna...” He started rattling off the first names that came to his head. And then he stopped and just laughed. “Actually, there are no past boyfriends. That part’s just in theory, not in practice.” He’d dated a couple girls before his power had manifested - and tried to date one after, but that had gone rather badly. Nothing like making out with a girl and getting a flash of her making out with one of your best friends. Awkward.
“And the ex-girlfriends aren’t that interesting. Hence the ‘ex’ part.” Jesper had never been in love so he had never had to experience heartbreak. Well, not too much, anyway. “And here, well... look at who we’re surrounded by.” Jesper wasn’t interested in anyone at IVI. Sure there were some pretty faces, but he liked more than just a pretty face. There had to be a pretty mind attached. He was a fan of some high quality grey matter.
In a non-cannibalistic sort of way, of course.
“This place is littered with gay men,” Rashida pointed out. “I’m sure you could take care of that in an afternoon if you wanted to. Several times over.”
It was weird to her, being so blatant about it, but hey, if he was so inclined there was no lack of people to hook up with, that was for sure.
“So,” she said, deciding that there were more important or at least less awkward things to discuss. “This tequila thing. Is it all set? Because I’m weeping with joy, I have to tell you.”
“I could,” Jesper agreed, and then he made a little face. “But I don’t actually find any of them attractive, so.” At least, not in a full attractive sort of way. Some had the physical attractiveness part, but he’d not encountered anyone who had the whole package.
And Jesper was a whole package sort of guy.
“Besides, I’ve no interest in becoming part of the drama that is the IVI soap opera,” he added with a little eye roll.
Tequila was a much better subject. “It is. Doria’s on board, so next Saturday is should be a go. We’ll have to pick a different meet up spot, though, in case they’re paying special attention to the soccer pitch after last time.”
Yeah, Rashida would happily stay out of the soap that this school had turned into. She enjoyed watching it from the outside, as always, but being one of the guilty parties? No, she’d rather stay far away from that. Or mock that mercilessly, anyway.
Which was why she walked around referring to Jesper as ‘hubs’. What other reason could there possibly be?
“Told you she’d be up for it. Doria’s pure gold when it comes to this sort of thing. Best power ever, as far as I’m concerned.”
Not that she’d swap her own out for anything, but if she had a second choice... yeah. Something entertaining like that would definitely be the way to go.